


satisfaction (brought it back)

by jelenedra



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power
Genre: AU where everyone is an adult, BDSM, Blood Kink, F/F, Fight Sex, Hate Sex, Love/Hate, Mildly Dubious Consent, but everyone involved implicitly consents, undernegotiated bdsm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 17:56:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16770055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jelenedra/pseuds/jelenedra
Summary: Catra laughs, a high childish giggle. “If I knew this was all it took to make you lie down for me—”Adora punches her in the face.





	satisfaction (brought it back)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OshindiJo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OshindiJo/gifts).



Adora comes awake in a rush, fragments flashing past her eyes. An orb, hissing gas - She-ra yanking Glimmer by the arm, hard enough to dislocate - Bow reaching for his quiver - taking three long strides towards the door before the forest floor came rushing up to plow into She-ra’s nose. Long tentacles of shadow stroking along her face. Pain. Darkness. 

“They’re—”

Adora lurches up from the floor, into a fighting stance. Her hand reaches for her sword and closes on nothing. 

“—fine.”

Catra grins at her through the bars, lounging against them. Her tail is straight up behind her, the tip tilted slightly to the left. Her ears are forward. Adora eases out of her stance and glances around. Glimmer and Bow are asleep in the cell next to her, curled together on their bunk like puppies. Bow snuffles a little in his sleep. 

Adora leans back against her cell wall. She makes a show of relaxing, folding her arms. 

“You’re slipping, Adora.” Catra lets her hands drop through the bars. The low green light glints off the tips of her claws. “Getting caught by  _ Shadow Weaver? _ You gonna lose a couple rounds to Kyle next?”

Adora snorts. “You’re not chasing us this time? I thought we had something special.”

Catra’s ears press back against her head, but her smile doesn’t falter. “Hordak had bigger fish to fry. You’re below my pay grade this week.” She drums her claws against the door. There’s a beep and a clank, and the cell door rattles open. So does the door to Glimmer and Bow’s cell, though they sleep through it. “You just don’t matter that much.” She steps back and gestures extravagantly, like a footman guiding a princess out of a carriage. 

Adora lunges, crashing into Catra with her full body weight, shoulder meeting solar plexus. They crash to the floor, Catra losing her breath with a yelp. Adora glares down at Catra, at her sharp, vicious, beautiful face, and thinks,  _ You just helped me save my friends. _

Adora kisses her. 

Catra is strangely pliant for a moment, the wind knocked out of her, curling protectively around her bruised gut. Adora gets two handfuls of thick brown hair and yanks Catra in, cuts her own lip on one of Catra’s teeth and tastes blood. She pulls back, uses her grip to twist Catra’s head to the side, and bites down on the tendon at the side of her neck. A cold trail runs up her back. 

Catra hisses, grabs Adora by the ponytail and flips them both over, kissing back, sharp teeth cutting at Adora’s lips and tongue. When Catra pulls back and grins down at her, her mouth and jaw are smeared with Adora’s blood. Adora can feel it dripping down her own chin. Her back stings against the cold concrete floor. When she shifts, her shirt sticks and slaps wetly; Catra’s claws must have opened her skin. 

Catra laughs, a high childish giggle. “If I’d known this was all it took to make you lie down for me—”

Adora punches her in the face. 

They fall away from each other. Adora scrambles to her feet as Catra springs with a snarl, and then there’s no room to think, just react. Low sweep, elbow block, throat jab, open palm; no theatrics, just the efficient business of taking an enemy apart. 

Catra’s claws slash down towards Adora’s face. Adora raises her forearm on instinct. When they’d sparred together, Adora had armour plates to catch blows here; She-ra has her golden vambraces. Now all Adora has is her shirt, and Catra’s claws pass through like it’s not even there, drawing four straight lines of icy pain on Adora’s skin. Adora flinches, and Catra kicks her legs out from under her. Without She-ra, Catra is stronger and faster than her; she doesn’t have time to react before Catra pins her down, legs around Adora’s hips, claws around Adora’s throat. For one dizzy moment, Adora thinks,  _ Shadow Weaver would be proud.  _

“I win,” Catra says. She’s a little breathless, and there’s a low rumble of a purr starting somewhere in her belly. Adora can feel it where their torsos are pressed together. “Ha.”

Adora allows herself to pant freely, arching a little to push herself up against Catra. There’s no mercy in her, no give in her grip. Blood is flowing freely down her arm, staining her shirt. 

“You know,” Catra says, almost conversational, “I could do whatever I wanted to you. You couldn’t stop me.”

Adora whines and surges up, heedless of the claws at her neck. Catra slams her back down; Adora’s head bounces off the floor and the world goes soft-focus for a moment, a low whine in her ear. The feel of Catra’s other hand resting on her sternum snaps her back into focus. 

Catra closes her hand into a fist and taps her knuckles lightly against Adora’s breastbone. She extends one finger, sets the very point of her claw at the hollow of Adora’s throat, and rips downwards. Adora’s jacket and shirt and stays split open and fall aside. She tilts her head down just enough to see tiny beads of blood forming where Catra’s claw had sliced the topmost layer of her skin. 

“And to think,” purrs Catra, “all those years I wasted on being your friend, when with just a little more pressure I could spill your insides on the floor.”

Adora opens her mouth to retort and Catra bites her lower lip, licks her way inside. Her tongue is strangely rough and the feel of it makes Adora go limp, moaning into Catra’s mouth. Clawed hands grip her shoulders and Catra wrestles them both into a sitting position, cups Adora through her trousers. Adora freezes, still panting. Her naked chest is pressed against the cool smooth surface of Catra’s armour. 

Catra’s claws are flexed enough to prickle at Adora’s skin through her uniform trousers. She has the hands of an artist, if Adora pretends the blood is paint. She doesn’t want to pretend. She wants to rock her hips down against Catra’s hand, and so she does. Fabric shreds as Catra’s fingers twitch, and there’s a stinging scratch dangerously close to Adora’s clit. 

Catra shrieks. “Are you crazy? Don’t  _ push down—” _

Adora rocks down again, and when Catra snatches her hand back she slams them both to the ground. Her hands find the tricky hidden catches of Catra’s armour and rip them open, tossing them aside. Catra slaps her open-handed, and Adora bites her fingers, licking the blood from her knuckles. 

“You are,” Catra says, wide-eyed as Adora yanks her trousers down, “you are  _ insane—” _

“Probably,” Adora agrees, and sticks a hand into Catra’s underwear, “but you love it.”

Catra loses patience and shreds the rest of Adora’s trousers in a flurry of strikes, sending fabric flying and drawing drops of blood from half a dozen places on Adora’s thighs. Adora barely notices, focused intently on the wet heat under her fingers, seeking through Catra’s wild curls until she finds what she’s looking for and sinks two fingers in to the third knuckles. 

Catra yowls and thrashes, hooks her legs over Adora’s shoulders and kneads her shoulders with her toes. Adora pumps her fingers in and out, steady hard strokes, until Catra plants a foot on her chest and shoves her backwards. Her fingers pull free, and Adora dives back in, but Catra’s already stepping out of her underwear and lunging in, pulling Adora’s legs apart and sliding in between them. 

“Can you hear that?” Catra purrs, directly into Adora’s ear, clever fingers finding Adora’s clit and drawing tiny circles with the very tips of her claws. Adora grunts, shifting against her, trying to get some pressure. “Shh, listen.”

Adora falls silent, trying to hear over her own pounding heart. In the cell, Glimmer makes a soft mumbling noise, shifting in her sleep. The long months of campaigning together mean Adora is intimately familiar with the noises Glimmer and Bow make when they’re asleep, and that mumble means there’s fifteen minutes, or maybe thirty tops, before Glimmer wakes up. If Glimmer wakes up, Bow will wake up, and they’ll both see her here, naked, covered in blood like a killer at a crime scene— 

“Beg me,” Catra hisses. “Beg me to fuck you fast enough, to make you come before the gas wears off and they wake up, and maybe I will.”

“Catra,” Adora growls back, “you can’t make me do anything.”

Catra grips one of Adora’s thighs and pushes it up until her knee touches her shoulder, straddles her and slots them together, rocking teasingly back and forth. “Oh, Adora.” She sighs, one claw twirling around a lock of Adora’s hair. “I can make you do anything I want.” She grins, bloody and savage. “Now  _ beg me. _ ”

Adora closes her eyes and swallows hard. “... please, Catra.”

“Please what, Adora?” 

It’s the playfulness in Catra’s voice that breaks her. “Please, please, Catra, please, fuck me, make me come before they wake up, please,  _ please—” _

Catra giggles and shoves Adora flat against the floor. There’s an awkward moment where they rut blindly against each other, then Catra gets enough leverage to find the right angle and a white-hot spark of pleasure shoots through Adora’s skin, following the path Catra cut up her chest. Everything between them is slick with blood and sweat and they’re both getting wetter by the minute, Catra mewling as she grinds her cunt down against Adora’s. Adora grips Catra’s hips and hangs on, choking out “please - please - please” until Catra leans down and bites her throat, her collarbone, sharp teeth leaving bloody circles behind. Adora slams her head back against the floor and comes, her mind going wonderfully, perfectly blank. 

When she recovers enough to open her eyes, Catra is slumped over her, panting raggedly and purring hard enough to rattle Adora’s ribs. After a minute, she stands up, stretches, and struts over to a locker. A moment later, Adora is hit in the face by a flying shirt and trousers. 

“Get dressed,” Catra says. It’s cold where their sweaty bodies were pressed together. Adora gets up with a groan and pulls on the clothes - a Horde uniform, just like her old one. Catra is dressing too. There’s a clatter, and Adora’s sword slides to a halt at her feet. Catra grins at her from across the room, wipes some of Adora’s blood from her mouth with the back of her hand. “You can see yourselves out.”

Just like that, Catra is gone, the only trace of her the sticky mess she left under Adora’s clothes. Adora picks up her sword, grunting as the movements pull at her scratches, and manages to bite out, “For the honour of Grayskull.”

When Glimmer and Bow wake up, it’s She-ra, shining white and gold, who is waiting for them. 


End file.
